Page 129 of The Hot Shot

No, he didn’t. He shouldn’t have to lie.

I give him a tight smile. “It’s not quite the same, is it?”

The clean sweep of his jaw bunches. “It doesn’t mean anything. We were just talking.”

“About the future?” I shake my head. “We agreed we shouldn’t be doing that, anyway.”

Finn touches my elbow, leaning in to meet my eyes. “They were just words off the cuff.”

“I know that.” I tuck a lock of his hair back from his brow. “Let’s just do as we promised. Let’s just be. I’m okay with that.”

“You taking me so literally wasn’t what I had in mind,” he mutters with a frown.

Annoyance skitters up my back. “If you get to pick and choose what we focus on, then expect the same from me.”

The space between us tightens as we lock gazes. But then he relents with a grunt and walks off to the bar. As soon as he’sgone, my shoulders sag with remorse. I can’t snipe at him whenever he accidentally touches a nerve. It isn’t fair to either of us.

He returns with two glasses and a wary expression. “Here.”

“Thank you.” I take the glass. It’s filled with something pale green and bubbly. “What is it?”

“Tears of Regret.” His mouth quirks. “I hear it tastes a lot like champagne cocktail.”

My hand trembles as I take a quick sip. “I’m sorry, too.”

He doesn’t say anything but kisses the top of my head.

“I got offered a job in New York.”

Finn pauses, his glass halfway to his mouth, then takes a long, audible swallow of his drink. “It must be good,” he says after catching his breath, “to put that look in your eyes.”

I study the rim of my glass before taking another sip of my cocktail.

“Tell me about the job, Chess.”

He listens as I fill him in on the details, both of us strolling toward the French doors that lead to a terrace. Outside, we find a dark corner, and Finn leans against the wall of the house.

“Sounds like a great opportunity,” he says, giving nothing away. “How long would you be away?”

I grip the narrow bowl of my glass. “One to two months, if all goes well.”

He nods, glancing down at his shoes. When he looks up, his eyes glint in the moonlight. “Is this something you really want?”

Such careful control in his voice. It closes in on me like a vise.

“When James first told me, the answer was yes. But...” I lift my hands in a helpless gesture. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Finn gives me a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

But I would. And it feels wrong leaving him right now. As if it will kill the momentum of us, when we’ve only just started.

“When would you leave?” he asks.

“In the next two weeks.”

A grimace mars his features, though he clearly tries to hide it. “I won’t be able to visit you,” he says. “These last two games of the season are going to be intense. If we win, I’ll have to concentrate on the playoffs.”

He sounds so apologetic, as if it’s his fault I’m leaving. Sadness and a strange sense of panic roll around in my chest, rising up to clog my throat. From the second I’d thought of taking the job, I knew he wouldn’t be able to follow. Something in his eyes tells me that he understands this as well.